


sending a message

by trixicinkflair



Series: dream smp fics [8]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Amnesia, Anger, Dream Smp, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Minecraft, Not Canon Compliant, Post-War, Roleplay, Sheep, War, Yelling, i'm sorry friend, no beta we die like friend, slight variation from canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:35:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29692338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trixicinkflair/pseuds/trixicinkflair
Summary: -"Phil?" There was a desperate note of disbelief creeping into Ghostbur's voice now. "I...I gave friend to Phil to look after."There was a long moment of silence, where Tommy stood at Tubbo's side, looking out over the wreckage, trying to find something to say.Then Ghostbur spoke again, voice hardening and getting the closest to Wil's usual deeper tone that it had been since...well, since Wilbur had been alive."I need to talk to Phil."-mcd warning for alivebur and friend // fic is properly capitalized
Relationships: Ghostbur & friend, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Series: dream smp fics [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2117223
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	sending a message

**Author's Note:**

> heya, my twitter is wrenshiraeth, come say hi!! i post dsmp concept threads and snippets from fics i'm working on!
> 
> kudos and comments fuel me, lemme know if there's a typo/something to fix or just if you liked/didn't like the fic.
> 
> ~ink

Wilbur (Ghostbur now, Tommy reminded himself) circled the cavern he had wandered into twice before he turned to exit.

Tommy could hear him fumbling as he hit a wall in the darkness, searching for something to use for a boost.

He spoke abruptly, shattering the heavy, uncomfortable silence with a single question that had Tommy's lungs locking up. "Tommy, who did this?"

He hesitated for a moment, mouth open, ready to tell him the truth, but Ghostbur sounded so sad, so broken, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Dream did, and Technoblade, and...Phil." _And you,_ he wanted to say, but he wasn't quite heartless enough, especially once the ghost popped up in front of him, dark eyes wide and sad. Tommy didn't want to be the one to tell him.

"Phil?" There was a desperate note of disbelief creeping into Ghostbur's voice now. "I...I gave friend to Phil to look after."

There was a long moment of silence, where Tommy stood at Tubbo's side, looking out over the wreckage, trying to find something to say.

Then Ghostbur spoke again, voice hardening and getting the closest to Wil's usual deeper tone that it had been since...well, since Wilbur had been alive.

"I need to talk to Phil."

It was raining now, and every drop of water that hit Ghostbur sizzled and burned his skin, but the ghost barely reacted.

"Hello!" Phil called, bounding over as Ghostbur summoned him.

"Phil?" Ghostbur asked, and _fuck_ , he sounded so horribly sad and quiet, so unlike Wilbur.

"Hey," Phil said, sobering as he took in Ghostbur's expression.

"Why...why...Phil, why did..." Ghostbur struggled to find the words for a moment, before inhaling shakily and whispering, "why did you blow up L'Manberg?"

Phil's face contorted, and behind Ghostbur, Tommy shook his head sharply. _Don't_ , he mouthed.

"We needed to send a message, Wil."

Ghostbur stumbled back, face twisting, fluctuating between sorrow and anger. "You knew...you _knew_ friend was in your house!" he cried.

Phil looked panicked, holding out his hands placatingly. "Wil, he has infinite canon lives, I-"

"You _knew_ ," Ghostbur yelled, cutting Phil off as he tried to comfort the ghost. "Stop. Stop, stop! You knew friend was in your house! You knew everything everyone owned was in this town!"

"He has infinite canon lives, Wil, it's okay," Phil soothed, achingly gentle, and Tommy had to clench his jaw and turn away to avoid storming over and punching him.

Tubbo laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

"Fine," Tommy choked out. "I'm fine. I just...this, everything that's happened. It's a lot."

Tubbo laughed hollowly. "Yeah. It is."

"I don't want to hear what you have to say! I don't want to hear it!" Ghostbur cried out behind them, and Tommy turned back to his brother's ghost.

He had his hands fisted in his hair, fingers tangled through the locks, eyes squeezed shut, tears dripping down his cheeks.

"I read the history books, Phil, you slayed the dragon. You...you killed Alivebur." And just like that the anger is gone from his tone, replaced with the hint of almost forced, unsettling cheerfulness, but underneath that...genuine gratitude.

It hit Tommy then, out of nowhere, that Ghostbur had told Tommy that the only memories he could pull up were happy. Nothing else.

Were more memories returning, or...or had Wilbur been happy to die? Had he been so far gone that he had actually begged Phil to kill him because he had _wanted_ it?

Judging by the look on Tubbo's shadowed face, equal parts horrified and understanding, he'd had the same thought.

"But how can you look at all of this and still see yourself as a hero?" Ghostbur demanded, stepping under a tree as a raindrop struck the back of his neck, making him wince.

Phil shuffled his feet, looking distinctly uncomfortable. He sent a glance over his shoulder, looking ready to flee, but Ghostbur wasn't done. "Sending a message, Phil? Sending a _message_?"

Phil shrugged, scuffing his foot against the charred grass. "Yeah.... Not to start another government. Not to take genuinely nice people and turn them against each other, with power and corruption."

Ghostbur shook his head, backing away until his back hit the tree behind him.

Tubbo tugged on Tommy's sleeve. "Come on," he mumbled. "This is Ghostbur's battle, not ours. Let's give them some privacy, at least."

Tommy nodded, allowing Tubbo to lead him away. As they hopped down the side of the mountain, Tommy shot a look over his shoulder at the two other men.

He caught one last glimpse of Ghostbur, crumpled on the ground, hands clutching his chest, sobbing. Phil hovered over him, torn between escaping and fear for his son.

Then they rounded the corner and Tommy lost sight of them.

"Do you think Ghostbur will be okay?" Tubbo asked. "I know Wilbur was...well, Wilbur was fucking insane by the end, but Ghostbur doesn't even know what Wilbur did."

Tommy gaped at him. "Allegedly," he snapped. "He could be fooling us all. One of these days, he'll slip up. And we'll just have to catch it before he can write it off."

Tubbo sighed, looking away, out over the rolling hills, untouched by the destruction that had shattered Tommy’s entire world just hour before.

”Look, Tommy, I...I believe him. I think the only thing he has left of Wilbur is emotion, and it scares him. He’s terrified, Tommy. Scared of himself and what he thinks he might have done while he was alive.”

Tommy shrugged, and Tubbo turned to look him right in the eyes. “Have you listened to him? He has a complete disconnect from himself and Wilbur, it’s like whatever bit of him left tied to Wilbur is snapping.”

Tommy softened. “So we give him a chance.”

“He truly doesn’t know what Wilbur did, Tommy. We can’t hold against him something that, to him, he had no role in. If Wilbur is ever...brought back, then we can have him face what he’s done. For now, there’s no one there to accuse.”

”Okay.”

Tubbo smiled at him. “Thank you, Tommy. I know all this is hard. But we’ll be alright.”

”Will we?” Tommy asked hollowly.

Tubbo took his arm and guided him to the edge of the mountainside, the clouds shimmering away into fog as the sun started to rise over the mountains in the distance.

”Yeah,” he said. “I think we will.”

**Author's Note:**

> eyy, you made it lol, how'd you like it?
> 
> hey, maybe check out my other dsmp works while you're here? hella proud of a couple of them.
> 
> thank you readers, and as always, big big thank you to my brother jason. he's so incredibly supportive of my writing, it honestly keeps me going. he's one of the only reasons i’m still writing at all.
> 
> ~ink


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